I'm already at your place...if you want it spiked, let me know where you keep the good stuff and I'll have a couple of cups waiting for when you arrive.
Of course you actually have to go to your "House" to join me...

In the middle of the tunnel system, Jasper has a mind to check his phone. Reading the message from Mack, he c0cks a brow, looks around, and smirks. As loudly as possible, with a deep inhale to fuel the cacophony, he would announce to the entire coven:

Pauses in front of the Vampire, cigarette dangling from the left corner of his mouth and smoldering away, sending up a cloud of acrid smoke to halo his damaged face. Iridescent eyes are squinted slightly against the sting of the offending carbon as it swirls and trails into them. Scarred features are fixed in a mask of innocent seriousness as he stares at the woman.

Quiet.Calm.Slowly, he pulls the half-empty bottle of Wild Turkey up to his lips and, without removing the cigarette, takes a hefty drink, replacing a good quarter of the contents with air in a series of quick glugs of the potent liquor.

Slowly, his left hand lifts up and points to the ground behind the woman perhaps foot to her right side.

"Y'dropped yer pock't," the stocky lycan says in all seriousness. He stares blankly at her for a moment longer before walking away. His duty is done, yes?

Caught like a deer in headlights, he has elegantly just stuffed an entire biscuit in his mouth when she chooses to call upon him. Eyes dart around, looking for what she could possibly be talking about while attempting to swallow his snack whole. In case anyone was wondering, it’s not working. Finally, his gaze finds the manhole over head and he points at it with a questioning look before the expression melts into one of dismay. “Not thith one too?”

The battle ensues, the lump convulsing and limbs jutting out occasionally, but he finally obtains the high ground. Sleep is very important to Jasper; as such, being awoken from it isn’t his favorite thing. So, with Mackenzie thoroughly locked up tight in a death embrace, all limbs accounted for, he presses a kiss to her forehead and promptly returns to his slumber.

His expression melts into something like a not-so-masterfully hidden snarl. Taking a deep breath, he collects himself, plastering a smile on his face that only proves to darken his eyes. “No, I can’t believe that sh-t...”

What a gross excuse for a man.

Within a moment, he’s shaken himself from the memory of Victor Lockheed, choosing instead to focus on better things. “Well, come on, then. Maybe an entire family, huh? Just for the fun of it...”

His arm tightens across her shoulders, eyebrows furrowing in sympathy and irritation, all in one fluid emotion. Ecstasy, of all things, when she’s going to meet a recently scorned, childish ex. He can only imagine what was in those texts, and he won’t ask her to relive it.

Her drug of choice not being his first for such a delicate situation, reason number one being that she’s much too emotional, he opts to raise her spirits instead. “Bah, don’t worry about Ol’ Man Victor, he’s just realizing what he’s lost and lashing out. You wanna go for some food? Or just the simple act of killing? Londoner’s have always been some of my favorite people to kill. I think yes the accent...”

“Gentle, gentle,” he insists lightly, thoroughly hungover and paying the price. Still, he manages to pepper the side of her head with a multitude of kisses, glancing inconspicuously at Gray as he hurried forward and away from them. Probably for the best.

Lazily, he drapes an arm across her shoulders, following after with a much slower tread. “This just had to be today, huh.” He’s kidding, for the most part. Yes, any other day probably would’ve been better, but...

“How are you doing?” Jasper’s tone is suddenly more solemn, concern taking precedent. They’d been through a lot in the days since being apart, and now, they are about to jump head first into a potentially dreadful situation. He feels utterly sh-tty, and she’s high as a damn kite.

Though her words are comforting, it’s a fleeting relief, one that he knows will wear off as soon as he’s alone. For now, he will hold onto it, breathing in the shaky truth before it crumbles around him, leaving him guilty and self-disparaging. The grief process is proving to be wholly unpleasant, he’s decided he wasn’t missing out on much.

“I’ll be home soon. I’ll leave sometime tomorrow, I’m sure.” There’s a lengthy pause after he speaks, hesitating to get off the phone and face his demons. By now, he’s blindly wandered into his old room, a forgotten bottle of whiskey staring at him from the night stand. He c0cks an eyebrow and takes it for a sign.

“Love you, Mack,” he reminds her softly as his fingers grasp the neck of the bottle, “and I’ll be back before you know it...”

They have a shared tendency to deflect, and Jasper smiles into the phone. It’s a sad, fleeting thing, and he’s glad she can’t see it. “I don’t know how I am,” he speaks openly, voice soft and unsure. “I don’t want to read it. I already know I failed, and I imagine there’s only one thing she would’ve given me, and...”

He clears his throat noisily.

Carefully, he folds the letter and returns it to its envelope for safe keeping. “It’s so quiet here.” If nothing else, that would have been good enough reason for Gray to call him here, to not have to face the deafening silence alone. “You’ll be okay until I get back?” The question in his voice tells of his concern, and if she asked it of him, he’d be on the first plane back.

After having excused himself from Gray’s presence, Jasper finds himself a quiet place in the dead compound - not a hard task, mind you - to make what would surely prove to be a hard phone call. For a moment, all he can do is stare at the phone, finger hovering over the call button. He sighs, and presses it to his ear.

When she picks up, they’ll exchange quick greetings that are, on his part, stalling what’s to come. It’s unavoidable at this point, and he extracts the letter, pausing as he works himself up to unfold it. “I don’t want to do this,” he laughs humorlessly, finally resigning himself.

“My *****,

I still wish you hadn't gone full lost the plot and spared my sister, but more importantly spared my jew. Either way I guess I would be here? What the **** even happens when an undead thing dies? I'm going to be down pissed if they don't have ciggies or gin up there.. or down there.. or whereever the ****. I, Spring Weed, leave you ****ing Victor. I don't know what the **** else to leave you besides your hobo even though he's already yours. I'm also leaving you my ****ing clothes. You better ****ing wash them, freak.

Spring”

He manages to keep a level tone throughout, only pausing momentarily to gather himself once more. Maybe this had been a bad idea, as he wants nothing more than to be with her through this. “You okay?” he asks after a quiet minute of reflection.

Mackenzie DarlingImage attached
Spring wrote us letters. She’s also apparently left us sh-t.
Gray’s in charge of making sure it gets to where it needs to go.
Do you want me to read it to you and bring whatever back with me?

Shara considered the answer for a moment. A whiskey bottle seemed a peculiar place to find the name but at least she wouldn't have trouble remembering it in any case. "That's wonderful." She paused as something occurred to her. "You know, I think 60 Minutes might have said cults, not covens." Too much time on her hand apparently.
This sounded a bit like a lifetime commitment, it would be unwise to make such a decision on a whim. There were questions and planning. That sounded exhausting, nope not doing that. "Alright, I'm in."

Her coven? Her curiosity was piqued. Of course one hears whispers, this was new though. Perhaps it had crossed Shara's mind for a moment but that was it. "Perhaps. Tell me more. Does this coven have a name? Do I have to participate some bizzare ritual to join?" Both valid questions, she thought.

"No doubt." As she listened it seemed as though for a moment she looked as though she might be considering it. Rule one, don't talk to strangers - too late. Rule two, don't take candy from strangers - who didn't love candy? "What a life you must lead to never feel bored." What the hell. "Tell me then, how can I be free from the boredom that I seemed doomed to."

"'d rather na.. b't if ah mus'" A hitch of her cheek, Mackenzie missed her joke. Fiona's blind. What is she going to do with a parking spot anyway? "Great'r thin's.." A snort. "S'we e'ther g't rich'r die tryin'." Again her head cranes. "S'which'f th'three monkeys r'ya missin'?"

"Well met, M'kenzie." Fiona stares blankly at what she can only assume are Mackenzie's eyes. "What're th'conditions." There's always a catch, isn't there. It isn't Fiona's first trip through the Realm. "Or d'ye fancy yerself a collect'r of interestin' people."

Maybe they needed their quota of disabled. "Do I get m'own parkin' spot?"

"I am sure you will survive." A hand reached out to give the woman a few pats on her shoulder. His hand froze when dancing was mentioned. No matter what, it always came back to the dancing. "Well, you are further ahead than everybody else. I like you, Red, I'm just better when I work alone."

If Aleister were on a sitcom, this would be the moment he would do a deadpan stare at the audience. Never had he met such a tenacious creature. Still, his features remained unshaken by her sudden declaration of accepting him into her 'person circle.' "Pass," he said, simply. "I appreciate your enthusiasm in getting to know me, but there's nothing about me you need to concern yourself with."

Chaos was inevitable, who among her kind or any kind could say their lives were without it. Few or none at all. "It has it's allure..." her voice trailed for a moment. "...at times. You'd be correct in your thinking, I do tire easily.. mostly of places." She didn't keep still long enough to bother knowing the people. "I don't like to be bored. Do you?"

"Gods," he murmured under his breath. Why did everybody wish to intrude on his personal matters?"You aren ot feeling the heat because I am not delivering any. I don't want, nor do I need, a person. I am my person. I am treating me very well."

"Oh, you mean that." Of course his mind wouldn't instantly go to those he fancied. Typically that was the last thing on his mind. "Not completely. I've been with men and women, so I suppose I fancy both. Does that answer your inquiry?"

Aleister's lips formed a hard line at her reaction. She was finding amusement in his confusion over the subject at hand. Mackenzie's next question is a peculiar one, but he attempts to answer to the best of his ability. "Who am I into, hm? Well..." The man tapped his index finger to his lips while he thought about his answer. "I am really into Niel DeGrasse Tyson. His books are always phenomenal and he is quite an articulate man. I also am a big fan of Edgar Allen Poe's work." yes, those answers should suffice.

Now she was being ridiculous. The man's stone expression couldn't help but crumble into a look of pure disbelief at her insinuation. "A crush? What am I, in junior high? No. I barely know the man and I do not form 'crushes.'" His own eyes reciprocated the squint as his features returned to their statuesque demeanor. "I'm onto you, Red."

Her reasoning made the man snort. Psychic, she said. If she was truly psychic she would have probably been clawing her eyes out at what she would see. Cute. 'My reward, huh? Yes, I must say he is aesthetically pleasing but chemistry? We hardly spoke, dear Mackenzie. I think you want there to be so you can experience the chemical reaction, hm?" Lock onto her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Am I wrong?"

The man sensed something was happening, but with careless nature, the man accepts the bait automatically. "Someone didn't learn manners in pre-K." The man saunters behind her with sarcasm flowing out of his mouth. "You're -incredibly- enthusiastic." And with that, he is lured.

"Nicolas. For some, Nico." He cants his head to the side. Hazel eyes squint. "Play with you and Twinkles, eh?" He stuffs hands in his pockets idly. "I'm sure we can make an arrangement." A grin creeps to the corners of his thin, accented mouth.

Food for thought. She'd never seen it that way but ultimately she had to admit Mackenzie was right. People killed each other, started wars with each other.Her answer had been facetious of course, even though she was sure heart disease was an actual killer.

"That's an interesting take, I'm inclined to agree. People are their own worst enemies, to some extent at least. Seems to be an inescapable plight." This wasn't the conversation she expected to be having with a stranger on the streets of New York. The distraction was tolerated, this was at least more interesting than the place she'd been set for. Shara wasn't clever when it came to words, but she understood. "Life itself chaos. People are born in chaos and unless they're lucky it's likely they die in chaos."

"I don't imagine there's much to gain from such a hobby. Others though, well let's just go with to each their own." People found enjoyment in all sorts of peculiar places. The thought gave her the heebie jeebies, she dismissed it altogether.

She did smirk a bit at the next topic of conversation. "Well, I suppose if you ignored such call it would be blasphemous and I wouldn't want to contribute to that." Mackenzie was intriguing if nothing else. Typically people weren't of much interest unless there was clear purpose. This game, she'd play for now. "Leading cause of death? Boredom. Shark bites. Heart disease. Take your pick."

The fist collides with his jaw and he makes no movement to jar away. Instead his eyes lock onto her face, his hands opened up in the air and juggled an invisible orb between the two. "Why would ya do t'at?" The voice asks. One of his eyes watering, while the other is rolling upwards. "Because wanker. She doesn't know who the **** you are." The venomous high pitched male-semi female voice retorts at themselves.

Then the figure, or figures in the vessel turn towards Mackenzie. "Ya mean ya do nay recognize either of us?" One of his own hands raise as if silencing himself. "My *****. It's me."

A simple nod of agreement was all she gave. For a moment Shara remained silent as Mackenzie spoke. Thus far she hadn't considered that Mackenzie might have an alternative motive for stopping her. "Good to know. I'd be most uninteresting to stalk I suspect." Her visits to random places about the city were puzzling even to her. "Pleasure, Mackenzie. I'm Shara." She paused as though considering her next words. The statement had thrown her a bit. "Interested in ... what exactly?"

Though she'd been gone several years the streets were familiar still, convenient. Shara didn't notice Mackenzie as she passed by, it was few moments before she noticed someone had followed behind her. Caught in her own thoughts, that was the norm. Hearing the other woman's voice her steps slowed and then stopped. Her emerald gaze twisted towards Mackenzie. "Afraid not, sorry. Those things will kill you anyways." Her voice was nonchalant, as if there weren't things far more deadly in this world.

"I bear no judgement towards him. I'm hardly in a position to judge, I used to run around in a golden speedo for money." Broad shoulders shrugged when his reaction was questioned. It had seemed the group of misfits he found himself allied with had a way of cracking that stone mask of his. A dangerous feat, but welcomed nonetheless.

"I think myself more of a Luna or Newt. I definitely have their social skills." Of course Aleister had seen all of the Harry Potter movies! He had to pick apart every spell, every incantation. Wands, though used among his kind, were not needed most of the time. Al himself owned one but only used it for pinpoint precision! Despite the falsehoods that filled the Harry Potter universe he found himself enjoying the books in his down time. He was definitely a Ravenclaw.

As she spoke of her connection with Jasper, Aleister would simply nod along. "A comrade in which you can trust your life to is hard to find. Not many can find one." Himself included. Trust was a luxury he simply could not afford in his line of work.

His own eyes looked to the woman at the mention of their iminent destination. Still, he continued on. "I know of a couple fine establishments in the area. If memory serves, the Morgan Library and Museum is nearby, too. I used to spend a lot of time there in my younger years."

Glad she accepted that lame excuse. Had really removed the clerk at the gas station's hand for refusing her service due to her lack of identification to verify her age. With said hand, she flipped off the police officer. He came at her and she flicked her smoke at his face which then had caught his polyester uniform aflame and he ran straight into a building.. catching it on fire. Details.

Mack N Cheez
Compliments to Jasp and yourself for the new elderly program. I'm impressed.

Just from her words alone the bond she shared with the man was obvious. Half a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "I have no interest in love, Mackenzie. It is a distraction I cannot burden myself with." And a burden he would never feel again; he would keep that fact to himself. "Interesting taste in underwear, however."

Truthfully, the man had not yet mapped out the halls of the coven so he was simply walking aimlessly with his new companion until they had nowhere else to go. "It's a short story about a witch known as Baba Yaga. I had hoped it would hold some hidden meaning in it's texts but, alas, it is but a child's tale."

A brow arched at the woman's distaste for his remark regarding the sanctum."Suitable is good. Right amount of room, privacy and the bed is heavenly." Was suitable such an offensive word? Or had she actually tried impressing him with his own workspace? These kinds of things went over his head most times.

"I say assume because he never introduced himself. I have yet to acquaint myself with the members of the coven but he seemed to be close to you. Through process of elimination I assumed he was your confidante."

Despite his pet name being called out, Aleister did not slow down. Mackenzie could catch up easily so why lessen his pace? The man's focus was on a paper with what could be considered chicken scratch to most but was actually Russian cursive. The looping of arms barely phased the man as he all but expected the woman to enter his space in some shape or form. Boundaries were something Al lacked for the most part.

"So far I have no complaints. However, a man I can only assume to be one Jasper Thompson approached me earlier, speaking of my 'talents.'" Crystal blue hues glanced over to the woman in a pointed glance before returning to the paper in hand. "An interesting man, to say the least."

The Russian article was folded and shoved into the breast pocket of his jacket so he may provide Mackenzie with his full attention. "I suppose we could go out. I do need to repay you for supplying me with a suitable sanctum. As for your question, pass. Ask a new one."

-incredibly skeptical-
The only reason I'm agreeing to this is because I love playing in your office.
-scoffs-
I do not have a beak. You have a beak.
-huffs, walks off-
-but turns around and sticks her tongue out first-

-rolls eyes-
I didn't ask you to replace it.
I don't even care that it's missing.
All that means is you can't pester me anymore.
-squints-Via text anyway.
-squints more-
... Are you fvcking high right now?

He offers a cheesy grin to the camera as she presses a kiss to his cheek, gummy bears sticking to his teeth rather grotesquely. It’s only after the snap is taken that he finishes chewing the hulking mass in his mouth and swallows it painfully. “Fine, though it’s a bit like chewing a tire.” He shrugs for effect before fixing her with a pout. “You didn’t tell me I look pretty...”

He pops another gummy bear into his mouth, lounging against the wall. Humming something that sounds like a mesh of classic Christmas songs, it’s clear he’s indifferent toward anyone that might pass him by. Jasper is secure enough in his masculinity to rock lingerie, make no mistake.

When Mackenzie rounds the corner, he lights up like a damn Christmas tree, immediately holding out the bag to her. “I don’t know about all that, but this is surprisingly comfortable.” When she snaps a picture, he frowns gloriously, waving his hand in indignation. “No, let me pose, c’mon, do another.” Turning his back to her to showcase he cheeks, he offers a over-the-shoulder pout.

Mackenzie Darling
Sh-t.
Between you and me, I did a loooot of mushrooms.
I think I’m in Camille’s room.
Do you think she’ll notice?
Who sent her a fuzzy bra?
She won’t notice, our dementions aren’t that different.
The panties, though... she might notice those.
I’m keeping them.

Predatory as she is, it is obvious to the man her display was that of the playful nature. Still his crystal blue eyes followed her movement carefully, studying every mannerism. Thus began her 'mating dance' of sorts; an attempt to attract him into her home. First, she tried to appeal to his desire for power, a common practice used by leaders so not an surprising gesture.

Next, came the compliment. A soft snort would escape him at her words. "So far, so good." A stalling tactic. In his time Aleister had learned certain social cues to insinuate a proper means of softening up a potential asset before finally getting to the point. Mackenzie was attempting to cushion him for the bomb that was the fine print.

When their eyes met he knew they had arrived at the climax of their exchange. Once she finally spat it out he stood there, his eyes still glued to her own. Toned arms crossed over his chest, his jaw tightening in thought. Of course, this was all a ploy. That final detail was hardly an inconvenience to him. Aleister just wanted to leave her hanging a bit longer. A finger reached up to tap his lips as he broke eye contact to step away, humming softly. "I don't know, Red. You're asking a lot of me." After a few moments of silence he turned to deliver a large shrug of his shoulders. "Why not? I believe we can benefit from eachother efficiently. You may want to alert your members that explosions will occur from my sanctum. My work isn't the safest."

A single dark brow arched upwards as the woman began to speak of a coven. The word itself left a bad taste in the male's mouth. Last time he had been a part of such an organization he was oppressed so that he may remain inferior to those deemed the 'High Council.' They weren't so 'High' anymore being six feet under. His first action as High Councilor? Disband. A coven of weak witches relying on the power residing in a handful of individuals among them served little purpose towards his work.

Besides, they would never accept him as a true witch, so it was for the best.

Still, Mackenzie wasn't a witch. So far, she had shown little signs of smothering his intellect. To top it off the woman had a reputation that would scare off most, if not all, of his pursuers. "A tempting offer... and what would you have me do? I assume there are strings attached to such a gracious offer, yes?"

"So you do care? How intriguing," he responded in jest. Mackenzie had made it rather clear in prior engagements she found the man aesthetically appealing so her proposition came as no surprise. The two had exchanged flirtatious banter in the past but never had she actually proposed he go home with her. This was progress.

"No hostage situation? Or funny business? My, you know how to entice a man. However," his tongue clicked, "I have far too much work to indulge in such extracurricular activities. My last sanctum was discovered so now I must relocate and start my work anew."

“See w’at ya did? Ya de one who scared ‘er off.” The male voice utters with an annoyed grunt. The crowd of people were no help whatsoever. The jolt of feminine energy caused them to get speared momentarily. Wiping a hand across his head as he stood on his tippy toes stepping through the crowd. “Hello darlin'.” The disturbing charismatic feminine hitch to the vessel’s voice. They step over a manhole and pause pointedly. Their hands traveling downward to cover their crotch area as if they had a skirt on in the first place. The dominant hostile tone takes back control with ease, as his stepping becomes more aggressive in nature directing the body where it needs to go. “Oi. Where are you at b-tch?” They start to whistle for the one they sought, but soon after begin an argument with themselves on what her name actually is. “Twas Fait’.” “Nay. Mackenzie.” “Fait’.” “Mack.”

This presence is weak within their bones. But there’s an even stronger figure that takes control of the vessel. Leviticus straightens themselves as their face turns level for a few seconds. A resting b-tch face if there ever was one. “Oi! Look what you did. Now she’s ****ing running.” The hostile screeching voice a few octaves than the male’s voice was able to carry. The figure scrunches back down with the squint of their eye as they start a verbal altercation with themselves. “Who in de 'ell are ye? Faith!” They start to chase after her, because she is the only thing they recognize.

Leviticus ran their fingers though their hair straightening at the new figure near them. The gloss in their eyes shifting to something soft – almost nurturing. Levi, himself , always slipped into the others parallel. This encounter would be no different as the spirit sparked the blazing fire behind his gaze. “I told ye, Faith. Ye brothers can nay keep us’part.” Half of their face distorts as if a pressure pierces one side of their face. “Dey can beat me ta deat..but…but…” The opened eye starts to widen as it cast itself around the scenery in confusion. “Dis place.. w’ere is dis place?”

Jasper shuffles into the office sleepily, a blanket wrapped around his entirety, and sinks into his chair. Staring ahead, he doesn’t really see Mackenzie until he sees Mackenzie, and then, he only yawns. A smile stretches his mouth oddly, lopsided as it is, and he points at her as though readying to say something.

A moment passes.

And another.

Suddenly, he snorts, a sound indicative of the fact that he’s fallen back asleep, eyes open and finger still poised in thought.

It was always a pleasure to be in the woman's presence if only for the fact Aleister didn't have to put on an act. It was tiresome playing the part of a charismatic bachelor to gain the trust of others. No song and dance was required with Mackenzie unless so desired. Her sassy response caused half a smirk to pull at his lips. "I always welcome a call from you, Red, but nothing compares to your presence. That is for certain." Hands dug into the pockets of his slacks. "Hope my dropping off the face of the Earth didn't cause you too much worry," he teased.

She wasn’t sure how she would respond to the name. She knew the two of them had a close bond, and she would be protective over him. Although she meant him no harm, she wasn’t sure how she would take it. “His name is Jasper. According to my friend, Jasper is the only one that can help him.”

She sighed as she plopped down on a nearby park bench. For once she wasn’t sure what to do. Almost all of her friends were gone, and the only one left didn’t recognize her. “That’s what I get for going into hiding.” She mumbled under her breath. Not knowing what else to do she gave him a call, and received a request she wasn’t expecting.

She had made a promise to this person years ago she would do anything for them. She looked up to them like an older sibling, and she needed to do something. Fast! She gently pulled her phone out of her pocket and decided to text an old ally and yet another person she looked up to. She wouldn’t ever admit it to her though. “Hey Mack Daddy, I need your help. Text me back when you get this.”

Piercing blue eyes shot upward to meet the unexpected gaze. A smile tugged at her pale pink lips at the sound of that distantly familiar voice. It was true. Julliet had been caught red handed, quite literally. The angel bit her lower lip ever so slightly before she would admit,

"What can I say? Maybe I have a thing for Jaspers. Thank you for making that issue evident. You know what they say, the first step is admitting you have a problem."

Julliet lit another cigarette and allowed it to dangle from her lower lip as to allow one last glance at the vampiress. With that, Julliet smirked and continued forth in her direction, her heels clicking against the pavement as evenly as a metronome.

“Both, I suppose.” Jasper comes up behind her, offering a solid shrug to his quip. He tosses the last of his cigarette away, rolling his shoulders and neck as he does. Sleep has been elusive lately, but he’d do anything for his darling Mackenzie. “What’s up?”

Extracting his favorite, he tosses it over his shoulder, knowing she’d catch it. “I believe it’s your turn, right?” He turns abruptly, facing her with a glint in his eye. “You know the rules, and don’t hold back.”

Smirking, he rises from the chair and crosses over to the door, leaning in close as he passes. “You should keep better care of your things, then.” In her bedroom, he pulls out the top drawer - again - and looks it over. “Yep, just how I left it.”

Jasper catches the head reflexively, his face lighting up with excitement. He returns the embrace before looking over the cranium lovingly. “This is perfect. I gave away my best head to the new girl today, and now I have a better replacement.”

Forever illegal. The Unnamed chuckles quietly and wondered if that too was a color of lipstick. Maybe the petite Irish woman knew something she didnt. "The pleasure is mine, of course. Maybe I will see you around sometime.. until then, safe paths."

“You been on my mind,” the man sings - poorly, mind you - then stops, eyes darting around frantically before he just mumbles the next set of unknown words. Shrugging, he scoops her into a whirl of a dance, ending it with a dip before twirling her into a straightened position again. “Can’t stop thinking about you today, did you spike breakfast?”

Solid steps taken, Zaynah stops before Mackenzie, head canting as she gazes upon the woman. A single finger raises to point to the wanted poster that hangs on a nearby gas lamp. Maybe the woman will remember her from the past.. maybe she won't.

*It was no secret they'd know each other for a long time. Nor was it a secret, Lilly was loyal to Mackenzie. Over the years, she'd learned to read her fairly well. Her comment about one day thanking her lucky stars, did stir a light chuckle out of Lilly as she raised her glass as well. Giving a light nod, Lilly spoke* To a bright future... *taking a drink Lilly gave a light chuckle and continued* Though if you want him neutered... *she gave a grin, slid a pack smokes and lighter over to Mackenzie* we could always have a bonfire....

*producing to glass, Lilly sat down. No she didn't wait to be asked to sit, she just did it. She'd seen this person before, years ago. She knew that look upon Mackenzie's face. Slowly she poured the glasses full of the amber liquid. Sliding a glass over she spoke*yes...yes they can. The right one can make your world, while the wrong one can send it spinning downward.

*lifting her glass she took a drinks she thought for a moment *so dare I presume someone needs reminded who to treat women?

*Lilly approached Mackenzie, offering an aged bottle of whiskey. The blonde headed often pain in the ass, looked at her for a moment before she spoke * come.... Drink... Plot whatever ...you look like you want to plot against someone....

“‘Fraid you’re stuck with me,” he laughs lowly, hating what he has to tell her but not willing for her to hear it from anyone else. “I think you need to come to Moscow. If you want me to come back so I can travel with you, I will.”

He’s stalling, and it’s blatantly obvious. Leaning against the counter for support, Jasper looks up the ceiling, squeezes his eyes shut, and wills the words. “Spring is dead. I don’t know what happened. She just... died. She knew it was coming, as she seems to have made out a will.”

Retreating into the bathroom of Gray’s slice of Death, he breathes a loose sigh. This is the part of his day he’d been dreading the most, and with good reason. Jasper hates being the bearer of bad news.

His thumb hovers over the call button before he punches the bridge of his nose, hits it, and presses the phone to his ear. It rings. And rings. F-ck, that ring.

When she inevitably picks up, he’ll greet her normally as possible. “Hey, my beautiful darling,” he coos, a lack of conviction in his tone, “I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. It’s... listen, we need to talk...”

Mackenzie Darling
Darling, I look like a hairless rodent. I truly believe you would not be flaunting this look yourself.
That’s wonderful, and you know it’s absolutely reciprocated, but “the enemy” is super hot, and when my hair grow back, it’s. f-cking. on.

Mackenzie Darling
Actually, that tells me all I need to know. He basically fills in the slot that any common, one night stand could do. It’s a shame, he should cuddle you more.
Yes, he is, but he’s mine. I take what I can get. Not like anyone else will have me in this condition.
It’s your discomfort, not mine.

Mackenzie Darling
You dirty, lying, betraying sk-nk.
It doesn’t matter, though, because it was mine, for me, and no one else.
I hope you got your fill of me, I’m not coming out of this cave until it grows back.

He snorts, sticking his tongue out in a disgusted manner. “I would not, that f-cking lead dude is so unbearable. I never knew an actor could be so ugly and so terrible, all in one. Like, what’s his selling point?”

Jasper laughs at her assessment, taking two large swigs in succession before responding. “He doesn’t seem that bad, really. He just needs a good lay or two, get things loosened back up.” Pondering deliberately, he considers his friend before a smile breaks the tension. “You think Spring would be willing to bite the bullet for us?”

There’s a slight stiffening in his posture, though he moves to stretch and yawn. Taking the offered bottle, he passes off the topic with a shrug. “I think that Gray guy took care of it. I complained enough that I’m sure he wa tired of listening to me. Don’t think he likes me much.” He nudges her with the bottle to pass it back, laughter in his eyes. “Wonder if that’s anything to do with you.”

He groans theatrically at her choice, procuring a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and landing one in his lips before offering it up to her. “You do realize I’m not a chick, right? Why don’t we ever watch action movies? Oh, or old movies, with Fred astaire and sh-t.”

He gets the notification just as he reaches the top of the elevator. Rolling his storm colored eyes, they fall on Mack, who is indeed waiting at the door. He wiggles the phone at her, furrowing his brow in mock annoyance. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, I’m here. I brought rum, for after the vodka. I plan on getting sh-tfaced so you better be down.”

He presses a playful peck to her cheek as he passes, collapsing onto the couch comfortably. “Thanks for the heads up about the zombies, by the way. You know I hate them.” The glare he casts her is withering.

Memory hadn’t served him through two separate deaths, so when she recounts what really went down, he shakes his head in disbelief. After all they’d been through, everything that happened, and the camaraderie that came with being a family...

Nothing.

Jasper collapses back on the couch, fuming. “More and more, I’m starting to see that.” It’s an absent-minded thought, as he leans his head back and let’s out a huff of annoyance.

Then, suddenly, a wicked grin splits his features.

“It means nothing. All we can do is wish her the best and move on. For now, let’s go hunt. I’m in the mood to kill something, for some reason.”

Startled awake by the sudden summoning, he practically leaps out of his skin when she vaults over the coffee table. Fully coherent now, he stares down at her phone screen, a flurry of emotion clouding his gray gaze as he takes it all in. A new coven, an old face. But...

Not. A. Single. Mention.

“Loyalty remains dead in the Realm.” The words are dark as he hands back the device, meeting her fiery eyes with an irritation of his own. “Tell me what else.”

“Do you… do you smell that? Smells like bullsh-t. Am I right?” He wafted the “scent” toward himself theatrically. “I think I’m right.”

Smirking breezily as he dropped the act, he stepped toward her and ducked, catching her lips with his in a brief kiss. “If you’re not ready to be married, that’s fine. I’m not going anywhere. When you are, I think we should honeymoon in Norway. I have reasons.”

Mackenzie stepped away from him, and his arms lifted to cross over his chest. He watched her, a single skeptical brow raising as she fussed with her phone for a moment. As soon as she turned, he felt his own cellular vibrate in his pocket, and he narrowed his eyes at her before retrieving it.

Dark eyes moved swiftly over the “group” text before lifting to examine her expression. A slow smile overtook Victor’s face only a moment before a quick bout of full blown laughter filled the room. “You’re so full of sh-t. Even the thought of me going down on a knee almost sent you into hysterics, and you think I’m gonna believe a change of heart this quickly?”

No way. She was angling for something else, he was sure of it. He eyed her up with a shrewd gaze. “I think you don’t believe I really meant it when I asked you. You’re thinking I only asked as a bluff to satisfy you.” He chuckled darkly. “Denial is fine, but I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t mean it. You can’t scare me off.”

The petite powerhouse melted into his touch, and it brought a satisfied tilt to his lips. It was intensely exciting to him that something could be so tiny and so dangerous. The woman could easily rip his head off without breaking a sweat. Maybe that’s why he enjoyed pressing her buttons so much. He just enjoyed courting death.

Likewise, she knew how to press his buttons, and she’d spent plenty of time figuring out just where they were. “Catholic? Sure. I might burst into flames when I set foot inside the church, but I think I can take the heat.”

He was almost certain that she was simply taking the piss, but he would have his fun regardless. Tilting his head, he brought his lips closer to her ear. “Mackenzie Lockheed. It has a little something to it, wouldn’t you say?”

Victor relinquished the zippo without a fight, nor did he protest when she lifted one of his cigarettes. They already operated on a ‘what’s mine is yours’ policy, for f-ck’s sake. Not to mention they argued like they’d been married for a few decades already.

“Have you seen how much I drink? I’m essentially a high functioning alcoholic.” She was playing coy just to tease him. He liked it. Moving in behind her smaller form, he drew her in against him with his hands upon her waist. Laying a precisely placed bite upon her neck – enough to leave a tiny mark – he murmured enticingly, “Think about it. I could be your emergency contact.”

“Well,” He began, twirling his zippo around between his fingers, “For one, you get half of my emotional baggage. For keeps.” He smirked at her, white smile stark against his olive skin. “I think there’s also something about legal and monetary ramifications if this Lockheed isn’t behaving himself, which some might find interesting.”

He didn’t really think she was considering it, but he was pretty sure the idea was titillating to her in some way. “Who is this friend we’re talking about? If it’s Spring, I need to be a little more drunk.”

Walking a different plane than most of the living afforded one with the ability to see life essences. As the foot of this stranger came down on Gyldi’s tail and effectively through it, she wondered at her lack of aura entirely. Curiouser still was the fact that the “contact” - for lack of a better term - didn’t bring the usual warmth that came with passing through the living. Instead, it was icy, like the feeling she usually exchanged for their warmth.

As she would turn to go, the beasty would bound after, catching up until she cast her body through Mackenzie entirely. Just as expected, she was met with that curious ice, and she wondered if the woman felt the same. Turning her head until she looked over her shoulder, she cast Eiji a questioning look, hoping it would explain.

Mortals can melt into the crowd, lose themselves, keep their distance. But for the likes of him, of them, well, could they ever be that lucky? For how long can you hide with an eternity ahead of you? When you’ve used up every dark corner and have nowhere else to go?

When Jack had left, when he’d finally gone and closed the door of the cabin behind him, he knew her goodbye would be the last. Too many broken moments. Too much pain. Whatever state she was now in, all this time later, he had every faith that the emotional scars still lingered from all he’d put her through. But did that mean she didn’t still care? As he’d sat there every night, thinking of her. As he’d time and time again been told to ’give it a fcking rest already!’ by Tanvir as he’d once again found means to bring Mackenzie Brooks into conversation. They’d been something else, he’d tell her. Nothing quite like them had ever existed, and it never would again.

But now his journey was over, his fight for a freedom from the very thing that had clouded their relationship. Was he ‘fixed’? No. But he was in control. That wickedness, the evil that lived within him, he’d found the balance. He was Jack Horton and the monster, perfectly knotted together.

But it was too late now. He knew better. And as he sat at the desk in the suite of The London, NYC, hunched over the same damn piece of paper for hour six or seven, he couldn’t find a single word to write. He’d had such wonderful intentions. A ‘be safe’ here. An ‘it’s all over’ there. A note to let her know that what had taken him away, what had haunted them for years, was finally through. And a wish that she find happiness from whatever wreckage he’d left her in. Yes nothing flowed from the branded pen in his hand. Nothing but her name, Mackenzie, in his cursive script.

Finally, some hours later as the sun rose, spreading its light across him through the wide wall of windows, he sealed the envelope and pulled on his shoes to find the nearest post box.

She could play hard to get all she wanted. Mackenzie was actively torturing Jameson f*cking Orlav, and he knew the reason. It was for him. Mackenzie couldn't deny that. It put her and her Sanctuary at risk, just like she had proclaimed she would never do. Her actions told a story as plain as day.

Feeling suddenly quite charitable, he obliged Mackenzie's request. Switching his phone to camera mode, he bent down next to his doomed, sobbing companion.

"Give me a scream, pretty girl."

Mick
Tell me where you are.
[IMG Rec'd]

The image was a closeup of an attractive young woman with rivers of mascara running down her pink, sobbing face, Victor's fingers clearly snatching her head back by her hair.